Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“You better not fuck it up!” he yells at my back, and the only thing I can do is hold my hand up and give him the finger. Getting in the truck, I head toward my house. Seeing her truck parked beside the barn, I wonder if she’s out with her horse or not. I walk to the barn before I head to the house. Seeing all the stalls full, I turn and head to the house. One side of my head tells me to calm down, the other side is telling me that I’m about to lose my shit more than I’ve ever lost it on her.
I open the door, shouting her name, “Lilah!” I slam the door behind me. Walking into the kitchen, I spot her behind the counter, pouring some hot water into a mug. My heart that was beating as if it was coming out of my chest suddenly slows down with just one look at her.
“Hey,” she says, surprised to see me here, “what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” I point at myself. “What are you doing here?” I point at her.
“I was making myself a cup of tea before I start to work on my thesis,” she explains, turning to put the kettle back on the stove.
“In the middle of the day?” I put my hands on my hips. Usually, she would make tea after dinner, but never during the day. My eyes roam over to see a red rose in a vase off the side of the sink.
“Yeah, I asked Charlie if I could leave early.” She avoids looking at me.
“Is that all you asked Charlie?” I ask, and she walks back over to the coffee mug, pulling up the white string with the tea bag. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing,” she says. “It’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve been home, and nothing has come up, so maybe it wasn’t anything.” She shrugs.
“We don’t know if it’s anything since the sheriff is still investigating.” The little hold I had on my temper slowly leaves me. “Now, why the fuck are you saying you want to get out of my hair?”
“I don’t know.” She looks at me, and I know she’s fucking hiding something from me. “It was just a thought.” She walks to the fridge, grabbing the container of milk and walking back. “I can’t stay here forever.” Why not, my mouth almost shouts at her. “I’m running out of clothes.”
“So do laundry,” I snap, and she smiles at me. “You said you like to do it anyway, do laundry.”
She shakes her head and picks up her tea, taking a sip. “Thank you, by the way,” she says, and I tilt my head to the side, confusion on my face. “For the rose.” She points at the rose. “Very subtle, leaving it for me in my truck.” The color drains out of my face, and the hands on my hips fall to my sides.
“What rose?” I say, and her face also drains of color.
“There was a rose in my truck on the passenger side,” she explains, and it looks like she’s about to hyperventilate. “I thought it was from you.”
“It was not,” I assure her and pull out my phone to call Charlie.
It rings twice, and he answers, “What now?”
“My house,” I bark, hanging up on him and rushing to the kitchen when the mug in her hand crashes to the counter, shattering everywhere. She yells out when the water hits her arms.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pulling her away from the counter and the broken pieces. I turn the water on and wet the rag on the counter, washing her arm off. I see her hands are starting to shake as she looks over at the rose.
“You didn’t put that in my truck?” she asks softly, her voice trembling.
“No, baby,” I reply softly as the tears run down her face.
“It’s him,” she declares, and my body goes still. My veins feel as if my blood has stopped and turned to ice.
“Who is him?” I ask, and she shakes. I have to put my arm around her waist to make sure she doesn’t end up on her ass. “I’ve got you,” I reassure her, carrying her over to the couch at the same time my front door opens and then closes.
“What the fuck is the fuss?” Charlie questions, coming to a stop when he walks into the room, seeing her on the couch with me leaning over her. “What happened?”
“Someone left a rose in her truck,” I answer, squatting down at her feet and taking her hand in mine, not sure if it’s to calm her or to calm myself. “She thought it was me.” I don’t move my eyes from her. “Who is him?”
“Derek.” She says a name I’ve never heard before.